


Nuclear Family

by Arsenic, arsenicarcher (Arsenic)



Series: 14 Valentines [17]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2020-09-27 05:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20402266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/arsenicarcher
Summary: Written for 14v 2011 theme "reproductive rights and motherhood."





	Nuclear Family

The most bitterly ironic part about losing her child, was that Jodie had never really wanted a kid in the first place. She kept thinking it shouldn’t have been that big a deal to lose something she’d only gotten because her husband had wanted it, because no woman was going to get voted into the Sherriff’s office of Souix Fall without a husband and 2.5 children. But somewhere along the way, while she hadn’t been looking, Jodie had evidently forgotten all of her misgivings. Because whatever else, Kenny’s last breath hit her like a bullet straight to the gut. In the years since, she wasn’t sure she’d yet managed to get off the ground, or just bleed the hell out. No, secretly, she was pretty certain she was still lying where the bullet had dropped her, crying for an ambulance that was never going to come.

*

The sickest part about losing a child was that it gave her what she thought she’d always wanted from other people: peace. People asked—hesitantly, as if they were afraid she might suddenly break down on them—if she was all right. But nobody asked if she was planning on having another, or pointed out that she wasn’t getting any younger, or said a damn _word_ about kids.

Five years earlier, it would have been a dream come true. Now she sort of wished someone would ask, so she could admit she wasn’t certain she was brave enough to try again. She was afraid that it was something she had done, that maybe, underneath, she hadn’t loved him enough, and this was punishment for that.

She wanted someone to ask so she could ask them if it would help, if trying again would change this emptiness, or if she would just be covering it up. And if she was just covering it up, would that mean failing a second child?

People only asked if she was okay, though. And Jodie remembered what she’d taught Kenny about that question: “The correct answer is yes, big guy. Always yes.”

*

The Sherriff who’d preceded Jodie was a retired Good Ol’ Boy who had opposed her election with every bit of his formidable power in the town. He didn’t want “no girl watchin’ over his folk.” Jodie’d made sure to make appearances at the shooting range—where she was every bit as careful not to make it clear she could outshoot every single one of her male counterparts—and at PTA meetings. She’d won by a slim margin, but she’d won.

Jodie survived the election after Kenny’s death mostly on the strength of people’s pity, and she damn well knew it. She wished she cared more; she would have Before.

Two days after the election, the old Sherriff’s wife, Christina, knocked on Jodie’s door with a homemade cherry cobbler in hand and said, “Just so you know, I voted for you—both times. Can I come in?”

Jodie blinked, then stood back. She poured a couple of cups of the coffee she’d had brewing, got out some plates and asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”

Christina took a long sip of the coffee and said, “You know, Vince and I, we lost our eldest.”

Jodie nearly spilled coffee all over herself. “I—“

“Shut up,” Christina said, although not unkindly. “She would have been around your age.”

“Oh,” Jodie said. It occurred to her that Vince’s opposition to her might not have been all about the length of her penis.

“People are pretty stupid about it.”

For a second, Jodie thought she would actually cry, but she realized after a moment that she was laughing. She tried to stop, but couldn’t, was bent over with it. When she finally managed, she straightened up and said, “I’m sorry, I—“ She shook her head. “Yeah. Yeah, they really are.”

Christina served them both up a slice of cobbler. “It doesn’t get better, if you’re wondering. But it generally doesn’t get worse. And there are things that can take your mind off it, sometimes.”

Jodie took a small bite of her cobbler. Without knowing why, she admitted, “I didn’t even-- I had him because that’s what we do. That’s what women do. But I-- What if he thought I regretted it?”

“Did you?”

Jodie’s stomach hurt. She pushed away the plate. “No. Not once. Not even when I thought I should.”

“Then he knew,” Christina said softly.

Even more quietly, Jodie told her, “I was so wrong about him. I’m afraid I don’t know how to be right about anything.”

Christina’s smile was sardonically amused. “That’s where you’re missing the point: there is no right or wrong, just trying and seeing.”

“I’m afraid to do that, too.”

Christina nodded. “Aren’t we all.”


End file.
